


Fish knows best

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Crowley is yelling at the sea, Fishing, Frowned upon a lot, M/M, Multi, TBI, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: After Aziraphale's older brother Gabriel sustains a brain injury, they choose to move to a coastal town where Aziraphale opens a bistro and meets Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 106
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was born out of nothing and my craving for salmon.
> 
> CW for this chapter is some ableist language

Gabriel has never been a good brother, in Aziraphale's opinion at least. The rest of the world tends to disagree, or rather used to disagree. What else might Aziraphale want from his brother? The man worked hard, built a career in finance, earned much (much more than was reasonable, Aziraphale believes) and indulged ( _ indulged? _ ) his younger brother who just wants to read and restore old books and cook and consume delicious food. In the eyes of the society, Aziraphale used to be more of a nuisance. Gabriel only ever joked about him but supported him through and through. Tried to show Aziraphale the error of his ways. Aziraphale would have been happy to get a hug, honestly. 

There was some undeniable and cruel irony to the fact that one day a bucketful of soapy water landed on Gabriel's head when the rope that attached it to the window cleaner up there somehow became disattached from the man. 

After that Gabriel, in the opinion of the same world that considered Aziraphale a nuisance, turned into even a bigger nuisance. Gabriel's associates frowned and shook their heads and out of the goodness of their hearts suggested that Aziraphale should just - ship Gabriel away. Put him into some - some facility. There are facilities for people like Gabriel, right?

Aziraphale had much to think about so he told all those good-hearted people to kindly fuck off. Then he could think clearly, watching Gabriel struggling to remember his name, age, profession or how to use a loo. 

He did remember Aziraphale clearly and insisted on lecturing him all the same. Aziraphale was for once glad to listen to his brother's lectures. That part of Gabriel he recognised and welcomed back. 

Eventually, Gabriel demanded to get back to work. The numbers danced before his eyes, his PA swiftly moved to work for someone less of a nuisance and the only reason Gabriel wasn't fired was because he was a senior partner. 

In truly Gabriel-esque manner, Gabriel refused any help, be it physical, occupational or any other form of therapy. He didn't need help. He had to take care of his younger brother who'd die alone and poor if Gabriel didn't help him. 

Aziraphale actually cried at that. He had known that Gabriel loved him, but seeing everything else but that admittedly tough love, taken away from Gabriel, broke Aziraphale's calm. He cried and sobbed and held Gabriel and promised to be the one taking care of him now. 

Gabriel of course argued and said that Aziraphale couldn't take care of anything and that their parents had been very rude to go and die on them and leave Gabriel to raise his baby brother while Gabriel himself couldn't boil an egg. 

Aziraphale held him closer at that. Aziraphale had known how to poach eggs since he was ten, but Gabriel probably didn't need to know it. Their parents died when Gabriel was 25 and Aziraphale was barely 18. Gabriel immediately got it into that square-jawed head of his that he had to smother Aziraphale with care and bore no argument over it. 

After the accident Aziraphale was quite ashamed of resenting his brother for being an overprotective arse.

Gabriel was in no condition whatsoever to agree to the sale of his share of the firm, and despite the aforementioned well-wishers, Aziraphale decided to respect Gabriel's rather quantum will. They'd still get the dividends, and Gabriel's fellow senior partner Michael, who had all the charm and charisma of a rod, acquiesced that she'd vote for Gabriel, seeing that they had always been in their quite relentless opinions. Surprisingly, Michael helped Aziraphale to fight off Gabriel's former friends and colleagues and even publically cursed when Aziraphale relayed to her the endless suggestions of  _ shipping  _ Gabriel to a  _ facility. _

"Doubt we'll get him back," Michael mused. "But he has you and to be honest, I always suspected you were the one with the actual emotional intelligence. I mean, it was pretty clear. Don't get me wrong, I adore the man. But he was annoyingly hyperfocused on you."

"Did you try to date him?" Aziraphale asked carefully. 

"Date him? Aziraphale, I'm pretty boring on my own. And a lesbian. But mostly, boring. I'm so boring I'm capable of boring myself."

Aziraphale got the honour of meeting Michael's partner Carmine who was an aggressive biker. They made for a peculiar couple, but Aziraphale wasn't going to judge. They appeared to be happy and admire each other's opposite qualities. 

Gabriel didn't stop being annoying, of course. He still found fault with everything Aziraphale did and tried to  _ take care _ of his brother which led to one fire in Aziraphale's kitchen and ruined plumbing in Gabriel's own flat. 

They desperately needed a change of scenery, and that is how they ended in a small coastal town where Aziraphale opened a bistro. He allowed Gabriel to think that he was the one overseeing the business, but in the end Aziraphale snapped, Gabriel wailed and everyone agreed to therapy. 

Gabriel couldn't stop his lectures even if he had wanted to; these days words just left his mouth without any filters. Sometimes he'd talk about being a burden, sometimes he'd talk about Aziraphale being a helpless lamb, sometimes he'd argue with the patrons, sometimes he'd try to get a hold of the accountancy… 

The bistro is called Eden. It serves good alcohol and simple food - root vegetables that Aziraphale grows in his backyard and the fish he buys from the local fishermen every morning. 

A middle-aged woman by the name of Tracy bakes lovely cookies for the bistro and helps Aziraphale around. She's a calming presence in the life of both brothers and Gabriel doesn't trust her. She doesn't take offense and laughs Gabriel off. Aziraphale adores her. 

The place is tiny, but it overlooks the sea and it has quickly become a stop for the fishermen on their way back from work. The atmosphere is cosy, Aziraphale's smiles could conquer the world and a dozen feral dogs. He listens to the fishermen and he doesn't offer any doomsday talk like the rest of the businesses in the town. Aziraphale's food is good, but more importantly his nature is that of sunshine. He's kind and warm to everyone indiscriminately. Gabriel has always called him sunshine, even when berating him for yet another mistake. 

Among the clientele there's a skinny young man with red hair and sunglasses. He's always dressed in black and Aziraphale has never heard him talk. He comes by with a short person who's also dressed in black and wears a fading badge with their pronouns and a pin that says that fish doesn't think because fish knows everything. Each time Aziraphale sees it he wants to be a fish. 

Then he turns to look at the fish he's currently cooking and reconsiders. 

The red-haired man never fails to catch Aziraphale's attention. He's far too handsome to be a fisherman in real life. He belongs in the Renaissance pictures of fishermen, although he's too skinny for Italian Renaissance, but El Greco would do. Aziraphale calls him El Greco fisherman when he thinks about him, which he does embarrassingly much. Aziraphale consoles himself with the fact that the man is too - elongated to stop thinking about him. 

The fishermen and the rest of the town don't mind Gabriel. He's a favourite of a few very angry retired gentlemen. He's eloquent. 

And he's terribly restless. Gabriel is too young to be satisfied with angry rants alone. 

Aziraphale doesn't really know what to do. Tracy tried to get Gabriel to help her with cookies, but he accepts no guidance and no criticism and becomes very upset with his failures, which is nothing new, but Gabriel didn't curse worse than any fisherman before and didn't go on endless rants about himself and himself and himself.

Tracy isn't angry with Gabriel, and Aziraphale is too exhausted to be angry with him, but he can't rely on everyone's patience. He's at the end of his own. 

One day the El Greco fisherman's short person asks Aziraphale about his brother - in a naughty way. 

"So, who's the handsome guy?" They ask. "The name is Bea, by the way, since you never asked and I never offered."

"Nice to… learn your name, Bea," Aziraphale smiles at them. They scare him a bit, they are very intense and they chew on a toothpick so hard Aziraphale suspects that the wood contributes significantly to their diet.

"The guy." 

"Yes, he's my brother. His name is Gabriel."

"Seems like a really intense fellow." Bea wiggles their eyebrows and looks Gabriel up and down with much appreciation. 

Gabriel works out a lot, perhaps too much, and he's undeniably handsome… Aziraphale can't be the judge of that, since Gabriel is his brother and Aziraphale's ideal of beauty is sitting in the corner locked in a staring contest with his fried fish. Aziraphale has an uneasy feeling that the ideal of beauty is beating the already dead fish. 

"He - he is - quite." 

"Does he have someone? Is he interested in having someone? I can be a cool friend." 

Aziraphale stares at Bea. This contest is impossible to win because Bea has black eyes and a feral smile. 

"He's… he's single. I really don't know whether he's interested in anyone…"

Gabriel goes on a loud rant which some old fishermen eagerly support. 

"Got hit on the head, right?" Bea asks, and they aren't mocking. It's an observation. 

"Yes. Yes, he - he was. As a matter of fact I'm trying to find him an - occupation. Do you think you could help?"

Bea hums and bites off a good chunk of the toothpick. They spit it out into their hand. "Gotta talk to Crowley. He's the captain and the owner of the boat… Gimme a moment. And a beer."

Aziraphale hands Bea their favourite beer. It's very dark and almost bitter. Aziraphale doesn't like beer and he has just learned Bea's name, but he's a good host and he knows who likes what. Say, El Greco fisherman - Crowley prefers his fish baked whole, so that he can have a staring contest with it. 

Bea grabs their drink and moves over to Crowley. 

Aziraphale remembers that Crowley really appreciates Aziraphale's seaberry tea. Crowley is sipping it right now. 

Bea talks and gesticulates and points at Gabriel and then at Aziraphale, by which point Crowley blushes so hard he's a cranberry to a seaberry. 

"You! Owner!" Bea waves at Aziraphale. 

"Aziraphale," Crowley says clearly. It's the first time Aziraphale sees him open his mouth without any food involved.

"Aziraphale," Bea agrees. 

Aziraphale wipes his hands and walks to the corner where Bea and Crowley sit perched on the wooden stools. 

"So, this is Crowley," Bea introduces. Aziraphale nods. Crowley nods too. So far so good. "Crowley has selective mutism, so for now, I'll be talking."

"Fair enough." Aziraphale grabs another stool and moves it to join the pair. Too late, he notices the naked yearning on Crowley's face as his covered eyes trail after Aziraphale. 

"Crowley and I man the boat. We have another team member but he's…"

Crowley furiously scrabbles something in a very worn-out notebook and shoves it into Bea's hands. 

"Yes, he's… I'm not saying it, Crowley. The man here is an angel and… Ok, ok. He's an unreliable piece of rotten fish. Satisfied?"

Crowley grins. It suits him, Aziraphale thinks. Oh, it suits him very much…

"So, if Gabriel can perform some simple tasks, that would be lovely," Bea continues and glances at Crowley. He nods. 

"We can let him sweep and wash the decks. Clean the equipment. Nothing sharp of course. We'll be careful with him and Crowley will compensate him accordingly. He's a good man."

Crowley blushes furiously and stares out of the window. 

"Yes, you are," Bea says shamelessly and sticks their tongue out. Crowley does the same, and wiggles it for good measure. It's sinful and Aziraphale has been alone for too long. "So… want to bring your handsome arse of a brother over here? To settle things."

"I'll… need to talk to him first. But I appreciate your offer. And… don't mind paying. It's on the house."

Crowley keeps staring at the sea. The sea doesn't care, per usual. Aziraphale would love to stare at Crowley too, but Gabriel is getting really out of hand, so Aziraphale has to deal with him first. 

***

"Are you out of your mind, sunshine? I'm a financier! I'm not sullying myself with menial tasks!" Gabriel is pacing in his room and Aziraphale wants to do something he might eventually come to regret. 

"Gabriel, you need something to do! To occupy yourself with! They seem like good people. Bea fancies you." Right, play on his vanity, so noble. 

"Bea? What are they? I can't say. Man, woman, child. Interesting. But I'm smarter, you know I am, I'm very smart, and…"

"Gabriel, shut up!" 

Gabriel stops pacing and looks as if he were slapped. 

"I'm - sorry. I'm tired. I'm an arse. I'm sorry, my dear. Come to me." Aziraphale opens his arms, Gabriel curls himself on his knees. "Look. It's… I think it might be quite beneficial to your health. To your piece of mind. I'm asking you to try. To give it a go. If you don't like it, I won't force you."

"You forced me to move here."

"I didn't force you. I convinced you…"

_ I sound like an abuser. Like a fucking disgrace. _

"Good that we moved. They all dislike me now," Gabriel says. 

"And here people like you. It's nice, isn't it?"

"It is. It is. I'm tired, sunshine. I… don't want to work on a boat."

"Then you won't, my dear. I'm sorry I suggested."

"No, you mean well. You do, right?" Gabriel looks at Aziraphale. His square-jawed glory has dimmed, he's uncertain and so very lost. 

"I do, Gabriel. You're my incredible brother and I love you so much."

"Love you too. You should go to bed now, Aziraphale. It's late and you work too much…"

Aziraphale lets Gabriel fuss over him and make sure that Aziraphale does indeed brush his teeth for five minutes. 

"Will you check whether I locked everything?" Aziraphale asks. He'll have to go and check again after Gabriel is asleep, and Aziraphale hates himself for lying. 

"Sure, sunshine. You rest." Gabriel kisses Aziraphale's forehead and leaves, some of his former assuredness back in his step and grin.

Aziraphale really needs to listen his brother for once and rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happened to write another chapter so here is another chapter.

Gabriel is a man. He's a man man. He's the mannest man in the entire manland and surrounding islands. He's so masculine that he can be an eternal donor of metaphorical testosterone. To him, it means that he's a provider, a protector, a knight in the shining armour and the sweatiest smith in the smithery. He's the the one working from seven to eleven. He's the one dragging himself home after work, proud of his accomplishments and bacon that he brings and that can never be enough.

If someone could take a look at Gabriel's memory, that someone would be able to pinpoint the moment when Gabriel's manly manliness was born - it was the moment he saw his little brother, his sunshine, his blue-eyed miracle with those cute blond curls as his father held him and said, "This is Aziraphale, he's your little brother and you always, always protect him."

That someone would also sigh and say, "What a way to ruin Gabriel's life with good intentions!"

So Gabriel protected and provided and worked and mocked and joked - only to make Aziraphale man up and become a man and do some manly work and be strong and beautiful. Gabriel is a man of principle, and his principles are his vertebrae. He would be just a jelly eel without them. 

Now, Gabriel needs to do it despite any nonsense some unmanly doctors might say. Unmanly doctors don't have little brothers like Aziraphale. They can't understand that if Gabriel doesn't protect his little brother, something terrible will definitely happen. 

If Aziraphale wants Gabriel to work on a boat and clean something - fine. He'll do it. He doesn't think it befits him, but on second thought, sailing and standing handsomely on the deck is manly enough. Gabriel can't disappoint his brother. 

He sleeps late that morning, because he needs to go and talk with that little black-haired person _after_ Aziraphale returns with his purchases and _before_ that little black-haired person comes to Eden for breakfast. 

Gabriel doesn't approve of the little black-haired person drinking beer in the morning, but to each their own. Not everyone can be a man like Gabriel.

Sometimes Gabriel remembers the accident and thinks that Aziraphale could be more caring, more protective, but it's not Aziraphale's fault that he's not like Gabriel. It's Gabriel's fault. And their parents spoiled him. 

On the other hand, since Aziraphale doesn't even try to monitor every breath Gabriel takes, he can go to the docks and settle his own affairs without much help. Aziraphale has to be proud of it. 

Sometimes Gabriel is angry about Aziraphale never letting him see the state of their finances. 

Sometimes Gabriel is very grateful for it because every time Gabriel tries to make sense of numbers and figures, he sees soup. Pureed. 

It's all very uneven these days. It always sways and swings. There are times when Gabriel thinks his own mind is pureed soup, and it's not a very manly thing.

He walks to the docks and sees the little black-haired person arguing with a tall red-haired person who is nodding but isn't agreeing, and the black-haired person becomes more agitated by the minute. 

"Gabriel!" The little black-haired person grins at Gabriel and Gabriel grins back. He's a pleasant man. He's a charmer. 

"So, you want to join us?" They come closer and grin wider. They seem to be dangerous and it's - arousing. Manly men should enjoy the company of dangerous people. 

"I do. Yes. Where should I start?" Gabriel is eager. 

"I'm Bea!" They offer Gabriel their small and rough hand. Gabriel shakes it.

"I'm Gabriel." 

"Yeah, I know." 

The red-haired person seems to be watching Gabriel very attentively. 

"This is Crowley. He's the captain, but I'll do most of the talking. Why don't we take a look at the boat?"

Crowley shakes his head violently. Bea rolls their eyes and returns to him. Crowley talks. Gabriel can't hear him, but he thinks that Crowley is doubting him, so he steps closer and opens his mouth to argue. 

Crowley raises his hand. 

"Gabriel, I'm sorry, but I need to talk to Crowley, and Crowley won't talk with you around."

Gabriel is offended. He can feel a rant coming up. When the rants come, Gabriel doesn't know what he's saying. It's all soup, it's all unclear. 

"I can work! I work a lot! I'm a hard-working man! I work hard! I'm a smart man, I am! I'm clever! I learn quick! I'm a natural leader…"

Crowley pulls off his sunglasses, revealing scary mismatched eyes, one of which is dead and unmoving and a bit of a black hole. He steps up to Gabriel and puts a hand, thin, elongated, with cracks on the dry skin on Gabriel's shoulder. Then he leans closer to Bea and whispers something to them. 

"No need to fret," Bea says with a smile. "It's ok…" 

Crowley keeps talking. 

"You - you can start whenever you want. We will teach you everything you need to know. We want you to come here in the afternoon. We'll sail a bit and we'll explain everything. It's alright, Gabriel. We don't doubt you."

Then Crowley nods and walks away. 

"So," Bea says. "I need my morning beer. Why don't you escort me back to Eden? It sounds positively dirty. Come on."

***

Aziraphale might have some suspicions about Gabriel's whereabouts but he won't worry until a later hour. For now he's calming himself with wiping the counter clean, cleaner, until he feels like Spinoza making a mirror. 

Someone coughs and Aziraphale sees Crowley. His El Greco fisherman. 

Crowley smiles shyly and pulls out his notebook. 

He even writes shyly, even his handwriting is shy - and so very minuscule that Aziraphale has to put on his reading glasses, which leads to Crowley letting out a wistful sigh. 

_My usuall, if you remember. It's ok if you don't. Seaberry tea. Thank you. C._

"Yes, my dear, I know it's you and I know what your usual is. Of course I do."

Aziraphale doesn't think he sounds too soft or soft enough to prompt another wistful sigh. Crowley moves to his usual corner and sits there, ramrod straight and watching the sea intently. 

"He had an argument with it today. Nevermind." Bea leans on the counter and Gabriel leans on it next to Bea. 

"Crowley argues with the sea?" Aziraphale asks, as he prepares Crowley's tea and calls out Crowley's name. Crowley looks at Bea and Bea rolls their eyes and carry the tea over to Crowley. 

Gabriel sees an old doomsdaying man and walks to him to share some polarising opinions. 

"How does Crowley know my name?" Aziraphale asks quickly. He doesn't forget to serve Bea their morning beer. 

"He - moves in mysterious ways. And does argue with the sea. A lot."

Crowley walks out for a cigarette and watching the way he walks Aziraphale can't help agreeing that Crowley does move in mysterious ways.

"We want to take Gabriel for a sail in the afternoon. Show him around, see how he - dwells."

"Thank you. He refused when I talked to him yesterday, but he's quite eager to - provide."

"That's admirable. What did he do before?"

"Financier. A complete and utter corporate shark. Rich, overbearing… I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk like that."

"You shouldn't. But I know a thing or two about living with a disabled person." Bea nods towards Crowley who's watching them yearningly. "I bullied his bullies, you know. And he's my best friend. We're definitely not together." They wink at Aziraphale and go to join Crowley. They lean close to each other and resume their conspiratorial conversation. 

Gabriel is doomsdaying loudly.

***

"I think it might be good for him," Tracy muses when she comes back in the afternoon to bring more cookies after her morning batch was cleared out. 

"I have a feeling that I'm sending him to his death. But he needs to do something. To feel useful." Aziraphale is tending to his vegetables. He has a feeling he isn't doing it right, but he follows every instruction in every book, even the contradictory ones. 

"Don't do that, dearie. Both of you are too hard on yourselves. So… I heard you like Crowley."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tracy."

"Even your carrots don't believe you, Aziraphale. He's a good man. I've known him my whole life."

"Good for you… Is he gay?" Aziraphale blushes. 

"Now, why would I make it easy for you?"

"Because you're a busybody?"

"He's pansexual. Out and proud. Well, as out and proud as a man with his levels of anxiety can be. His mother was a fisherwoman and his second mother used to brew the best ale. They both retired and are travelling the world. Crowley inherited the boat. Anything else, dearie?"

"I don't have time for this. I can't. Only if I plan to get married."

"That's fast!" Tracy laughs. 

"It was a joke?"

"Was it?"

"Sure." Aziraphale stands up and brushes his white pants. Somehow they remain white even after a gardening session. Tracy wants to suspect witchcraft but really, Aziraphale is just too lovely, a proper angel with human-made traces of worry on his face. He deserves happiness, Tracy decides, not that she is going to play matchmaker. She can and enjoys being naughty from time to time. 

All the time.

***

Gabriel doesn't feel well out in the sea. It's not very manly of him, but he's scared shitless, and he doesn't like being seen when he's like that. Only Aziraphale can see him like that. Preferably, no one sees him like that. 

There's no fishing to be done, so there's no tension, no need to do something quickly and urgently. 

Crowley grabs Gabriel by the shoulders and shoves him below the bridge, where the crew quarters are. The place is split into a tiny sleeping area, an even tinier kitchenette and a much bigger space with a huge sink and a cupboard and shelves and an array of filleting knives. There's a freezer as well.

Then Crowley steps out of Gabriel's sight but starts talking. 

"Look at the equipment. All of it. Take it in. Ask questions. What would you change?"

Gabriel does as he's told. The smell of fish is overwhelming and not at all enticing but Gabriel can get used to it.

"It's a mess. Everything is very badly organised," Gabriel concludes. 

"Agreed. We don't have the time to sort it out, arrange it. You know. We really need someone to put it all into order. I think you could do it. Just don't cut the nets." Crowley chuckles. Gabriel hears him walk away. 

***

Crowley makes it to the cockpit which is his favourite place. Bea stands up, letting Crowley take over the controls. 

"Sorry," Bea says. 

"You want to make my boat a mess to let a guy you have crush on feel better, then you should talk to him."

"You like his brother."

"I'm not taking advantage of a disabled person."

"It's a good test, ok? Let's see how he manages. He can't be out on the deck. We do need someone to take care of our quarters."

"Alright. I'm not against it! I'm all for it! It just pains me that you left the place such a mess."

"I'm sorry…"

"Fuck, I forgot to take away the knives!" 

Crowley jumps out of his seat and rushes back. 

"There we go," Bea remarks to the controls. They look at their reflection in the darkening window. "I forgot. Bad Bea."

They can hear Crowley being silent and sneaky below the bridge. They can imagine him scooping the knives and frantically looking for a place to move them to.

They can hear Gabriel arguing and ranting and saying he can be trusted with a knife…

Bea sighs and checks the controls. They are not moving right now, so they can allow themself the go down and sort the mess they have created in the first place. 

They actually quite like their life.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel feels safe when he's anywhere other than the deck. The best places are of course those below the deck where there are not many windows and the sea can be ignored. Gabriel doesn't like the sea. However, the contrast makes for a feeling of safety. Gabriel is certain that he's very safe and sound within the ship. 

As for his work, in his opinion nothing is ever clean enough or organised enough, but Bea just shakes their head in a good, friendly manner, pats Gabriel on the shoulder and takes what they need, thanking Gabriel for a job well done. 

Gabriel doesn't know anything about the equipment. He's not trusted with the knives, but they do look dangerous. 

Crowley is as friendly as he apparently can be. Gabriel doesn't understand why the man doesn't talk when Gabriel is around. Gabriel is a bit offended by it, but it's not an appropriate thought, because Gabriel needs to work, needs to provide, needs to prove himself to Aziraphale in particular and the world in general. 

The only problem arises when Gabriel mentions Crowley to the nice old gentlemen and ladies who enjoy his rants. The rant about Crowley doesn't find favour in their eyes. They even scold Gabriel and tell him that Crowley is a dear and he should be very grateful for the opportunity that Crowley has given him. 

Gabriel argues that he deserves much more than an opportunity to clean a trawler which is too small to be called a trawler… It doesn't go well. The senior citizens get very mad and angry. 

Gabriel is rescued by Tracy, fortunately. She walks him home and Aziraphale holds him. He explains to Gabriel that they are just very protective of Crowley, they've known him his entire life, watched him grow.

Gabriel complains about Crowley, and how he doesn't talk, and how he wears his sunglasses all the time, and how he's an arrogant arse and Gabriel has never heard about selective mutism, so it doesn't exist. 

Aziraphale groans. 

"Brother! There are many things you're not aware of! Things you never cared to learn or think about. Do yourself a favour, go to those people you enjoy spending time with and apologise."

Gabriel doesn't agree, but he can't disappoint Aziraphale. He has a suspicion he has done it plenty of times and he doesn't want to go on doing it. So after work he walks to a small park where the senior citizens play chess and gossip, and apologises. 

Tracy, unbeknownst to him, has talked to them and explained the situation to them. 

Gabriel is met with such sweet acceptance and understanding and some stories about Crowley that he wants to cry but settles for watching two doomsdaying gentlemen play chess while discussing their preparations for nuclear winter. 

Gabriel thinks he needs to make some preparations as well. He shouldn't worry Aziraphale, though. 

Aziraphale, unfortunately, finds the stashes of food that Gabriel has hidden in his room and there's another unpleasant conversation. 

Life is hard, in short, but it's very safe inside the small trawler, when Crowley is yelling at the sea and Bea cheers him on. Bea is the best person Gabriel knows. And they really appreciate his muscles. 

***

Naturally, Aziraphale's busiest hours are in the morning and in the evening. It's a little bit busy around lunch time as well, but not too much.

Crowley comes in the morning and sometimes in the evening. As for lunch hours, Aziraphale has seen Crowley doing some maintenance of his boat.

The boat's name is Bentley, and it's not something Aziraphale wants to ask about. He has a feeling that Bea doesn't want to answer Aziraphale's questions about Crowley which Aziraphale finds fair. 

Then Crowley stops coming in the morning. Aziraphale has to endure staring contests with every fish he bakes with Crowley in mind and never serves to anyone else. He eats it himself. There's something very romantic about it, but Aziraphale isn't sure what it is. 

Crowley saunters in one afternoon, all mysterious and pelvis that Crowley must consider some pendulum or suchlike, although it would make for a bad pendulum… or a bed pendulum. Aziraphale could use that pendulum in bed. 

Crowley pushes his notebook towards Aziraphale. 

_ Hello, angel. Can I have my tea and my fish? _

Aziraphale blushes because he has eaten Crowley's fish. Maybe that's the romance of it, albeit a tragic one. 

"Right away, dear boy." He prepares Crowley's teapot and cup on a saucer. Crowley looks at the china adoringly. Aziraphale can't disagree. It might be a tiny bit chipped, but it only means that it's well loved and used and Crowley's lips touch the rim of the cup and Crowley's fingers touch the teapot, and oh, to be a teapot. Aziraphale would be a grand Mrs Potts. 

He pops the fish into the oven and checks if he has enough steamed vegetables - he has learned that Crowley is very partial to carrots and parsnips. 

Crowley is still standing by the counter when Aziraphale returns from the kitchen. There are a few more clients and Crowley is writing something in his notebook. When he sees that Aziraphale is available - Aziraphale is  _ so  _ available - he pushes it towards Aziraphale again.

_ I could write the prettiest verses about your parsnip. _

Aziraphale finds it incredibly dirty and sexy and judging by the way Crowley blushes, it's exactly what he means. Alas, all Aziraphale can answer is, "Oh, I grow the vegetables myself. In my backyard."

Luckily, Crowley understands it just the way Aziraphale wants it to be understood, because Crowley can put a beetroot to shame with the way he blushes.

_ Can I look at your backyard? _

Crowley blushes so hard Aziraphale could fry something on those cheekbones, which leads Aziraphale to think that Crowley does want to see Aziraphale's backyard as in, actual backyard and not what they have been trying to blurt-flirt about.

"Oh, you're very welcome to come - and see it. Just give me an hour, until lunch is over, and we can go there."

Crowley nods, pockets his notebook and grabs his tea things to retreat into his favourite corner and grunt at the sea. 

Aziraphale decides to sprinkle some cranberries over Crowley's plate because cranberries are sour and sweet and pop on one's tongue most naughtily.

When Aziraphale takes Crowley to his  _ backyard _ , as in, actual backyard and not what either of them might have implied and might be still implying, because if someone has a bed pendulum for pelvis, one shouldn't be surprised if one's every action is perceived as a… cranberry. Aziraphale needs to carve out some time for a cooking channel or pornhub. In a way, they are completely interchangeable. To Aziraphale, at least. 

The backyard is not much to speak of. It's a patch of soil to which Aziraphale tends almost religiously. 

And at which Crowley -  _ frowns _ ? He takes off his sunglasses, revealing the most unusual and hypnotising eyes in the history of eyes on a human face - mismatched, a blackhole and a yellow dwarf, and oh, Aziraphale has never thought of  _ stars in your eyes  _ as something other than a poetic liberty, an exaggeration. Now he's getting his comeuppance. 

So, Crowley is frowning at Aziraphale's vegetables - and speaks.

"You better grow well, you silly buggers! I might admire your endurance and taste but I won't stand for you disappointing Aziraphale."

Aziraphale can swear that a couple of carrots that definitely haven't been there, pop out of the ground and tremble. 

"That should do it," Crowley nods. He doesn't look at Aziraphale. He has a lovely voice, tender and young.

The sunglasses return on Crowley's face, but he still doesn't turn to face Aziraphale. Crowley opens and closes his mouth, poor parsnip-loving fish, breathes in and out, scratches his head, shakes it…

He pulls out his notebook and scribbles something down. 

_ Will you have a drink with me? Or a parsnip?  _

"Oh dear boy, I'd love to have a drink with you. And a parsnip. Maybe even a carrot."

"Don't tease me," Crowley asks in an angry whisper. 

"I'm not, darling. No teasing. Would you like to come over in the evening?"

Crowley shakes his head. 

_ Gabriel is here. He doesn't like me and I don't blame him. Will you come over to mine? I talk when I'm at home. _

"Not a deal breaker, dear boy, I talk quite enough for both of us."

Crowley scribbles again.

_ I have much to say. Just not here.  _

"I have no doubt. I'm looking forward to hearing it all. Would you like me to bring something?"

_ Yourself.  _

***

"I'm not sure, Aziraphale. I'm worried about you. What if he takes advantage of you? He's a strong man, he is. Saw him doing strong stuff. And the way he fillets fish. It's dangerous."

"Gabriel, it's a date. I want a date. Even if it's my last date."

"I'll come and rescue you! I'll come at nine! I'll meet you there."

"And if I'm in the middle of hot sweet lovemaking and don't want to go home?"

"Aziraphale, you can't be so easy! It's your first date. You deserve better. You need to be wooed."

"Alright, bye Gabriel. Don't lock the doors."

"Wouldn't you have come to rescue me from a date with Bea?"

"Are you dating Bea?"

"No. I might want to. I talk too much, I know. I say many unnecessary things. It will be hard. But wouldn't you protect me?"

"From what, Gabriel? I care about you and I trust you. I trust Bea as well. I trust them to call me if something goes wrong."

"I'm afraid of getting… handsy and being unable to stop myself. Maybe… a double date? No, I don't want to see Crowley's mute arse…"

"Stop right there. I suggest you think it through and we'll talk about it tomorrow after you return."

***

Crowley's house is an old dark building with a huge garden around and brightly lit windows.

Aziraphale knocks, and the door opens immediately. Crowley is without sunglasses, warm, at home, open, wearing the softest flannel shirt in black and grey. 

"Come in, angel," he says easily and steps aside. 

Inside, the house is well loved and old-fashioned. It doesn't suit Crowley perhaps, that is Aziraphale thinks so until he notices the books - so many of them, and all about fish, fishing and an entire shelf full of various editions of  _ Moby Dick _ .

"My favourite book," Crowley explains following Aziraphale's gaze. "What would you like to drink?"

The evening calls for whiskey, Aziraphale decides and says so. 

"Ice?"

"No, no need… Thank you, my dear."

They sit on the opposite ends of a dark beige sofa. 

"Would you like a tour?" Crowley immediately asks. 

"Would be unwise. We've just sat down. Maybe later."

Crowley nods. They sip their drinks. 

"Bea says you yell at the sea."

"I do. It doesn't hold a grudge, I've come to realise. And sometimes I really want to talk to it. Also, I thank it. Ours is a tumultuous relationship," Crowley chuckles. 

"Do you ask it out?"

"I tried, when I was a kid."

"I really appreciate what you are doing for Gabriel…"

Crowley stands up and hides his face against numerous white whales and one-legged captains. 

"Is that why you came? Out of gratitude?"

"What? No! No, my dear, I'm so sorry… No."

Aziraphale gingerly comes closer to Crowley. "Would you rather I flirted with you?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright. I like your voice. I'm honoured you let me hear it. I like how you smell of the sea and tones of lavender soap."

"Tried… to get rid of the sea. A bit."

"You shouldn't. Always wanted to pet a fish."

"You… you could pet me." Crowley turns to Aziraphale. They stand very close to each other, and although Crowley is practically a rebellious land eel, he's taller than Aziraphale, he's lean and strong. Aziraphale would definitely love to pet him… to be held by him and hide for a while. Instead he reaches up to touch Crowley's short hair. It's soft and combed, not like it is usually when Aziraphale sees Crowley, when the salt makes Crowley's head into an angry death metal seastar. Aziraphale doesn't have a preference. 

He runs his fingers down Crowley's face, a thumb under his lower lip.

"I really like when you eat my food. When you stopped coming in the morning, I took to eating the fish I set aside for you."

"Good."

"It feels romantic, you know."

"It does. We're also built a lot like a fish, but it's an unwelcome thought."

"Which fish are you, dear boy?"

"Eel."

"That's what I thought. We could stand on the bottom of the sea and sway."

Crowley leans in. "You do wiggle a bit like an eel when you're happy," Crowley whispers.

"Then as two eels so far from the sea we should kiss. For shared breath purposes."

Crowley hugs Aziraphale and leans closer. "Bet eels give the best hugs," Aziraphale muses before Crowley's lips touch his. It is indeed electric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles like a mad fish* eelectric


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Gabriel is being a bit of an arse here. He's not fully responsible for his actions, but he makes Aziraphale and Crowley and even Bea very angry. They are not being insensitive, afaict, but proceed carefully.

Far it be from Aziraphale to deny having dreamed about being pressed into a shelf full of Melville - Melville full of shelf - the point is and remains that Aziraphale has quite a lot of Melville behind his back and cheering through that magnificent beard of his. 

Crowley's lips are chapped and Aziraphale can't be blamed for sucking on the lower one a bit too enthusiastically - it's for moisturising. Duh. 

Aziraphale is also ready to grow a pedicle and just choose this Melville full of shelf as his home, burrow in and keep kissing Crowley, who, being the sea, would see to Aziraphale's needs… Would caress and flow and...

There's something to be said about being a human, though, because Aziraphale's mind is going all firework and comets as Crowley holds and kisses him. He tastes of whiskey and wickedly mint toothpaste that must have burnt dear boy's mouth so Aziraphale  _ has  _ to kiss it better, better, better, one more, just one more.

(Make it four.)

Crowley pulls back just a bit, his eyes wide and worried. He can't speak.

"It's alright, darling… Can I have one more?"

Crowley makes it ten. Aziraphale isn't going to remark on Crowley's mathematical skills. Aziraphale doesn't possess any at the moment either. 

They are kissing for what feels like an entire voyage across an ocean. And Crowley can't speak and is so obviously angry about it that it hurts. 

"What is it, my dear? How can I help? What do you want?"

Crowley grunts and knocks his head against Melville behind Aziraphale's back. "It's alright, it's fine…" Aziraphale rubs his back, peppers kisses over Crowley's cheekbones and ears and cheeks. He's so very echinoderm, poor darling. 

In the end Crowley walks Aziraphale home, frowning and glaring at the streetlights. Aziraphale tries to imagine what Crowley must be thinking… Maybe something about being proud as a Greek god and being dwarfed by a disability. 

Aziraphale holds Crowley's hand tighter. "I've had a wonderful time, dearest. I think we should do it again… maybe tomorrow… or should you leave for a few fishing days?"

Crowley nods twice.

"I see… but when you come back, will you come by to let me know you've returned from your travels? Then we could - kiss some more. Involve less clothes maybe? Or shelves."

Crowley snorts. 

"There you are, dearest. And this is me. So…"

Crowley kisses Aziraphale again, which is just spectacular, until of course there's an indignant cough that Aziraphale recognises as Gabriel's…

"Are you taking advantage of my brother? Are you using your position as my employer?.." He keeps talking, and Crowley retreats inside himself, into his burrow, slowly moving away from Aziraphale until he runs away. 

"Are you alright, brother?" Gabriel asks, worried.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath and pushes Gabriel inside the house. 

"You… No, no, it would be wrong! No… How dare you, Gabriel? How fucking dare you? I'm old enough to consent! I can't believe you've just scared off someone I - like and care about! And for what?"

"He was taking advantage…"

"I don't want to see you right now, Gabriel. Please, leave me alone. I'll ask for help, if I need it. I'm… very angry with you."

Aziraphale turns his back to Gabriel.

"I - I didn't know…"

"Gabriel, it's really difficult for me to stay calm. I can't… I just can't. Leave me."

Aziraphale can hear Gabriel's reluctant steps, and when he can't hear them anymore, he starts crying. 

He doesn't even have Crowley's number! He doesn't want to text Bea and entertain or worry them. 

He would have screamed and yelled at Gabriel before the accident, but now he can't in good faith hold Gabriel responsible for his words. Or can he? Gabriel would have said the same. Why shouldn't Aziraphale behave the way he used to?

Aziraphale shakes his head. He has chosen to be kinder than Gabriel, and he's not being kind right now. He'll have to speak with his brother in the morning, explain to him again… For now, Aziraphale badly needs to fall asleep and dream about Crowley.

***

Gabriel thinks it's well deserved that Crowley is gloomier than usual and avoids Gabriel at every turn. Bea is their usual patient self, but they seem tense as well, so Gabriel takes them aside at the first opportunity. 

"Is he bothering you too? I saw him snogging my brother like…"

"Crowley is my best friend!" Bea hisses. "You pushed him, you made him more anxious and I thought it was bloody fucking impossible! You pushed him. He didn't do anything wrong to you or your brother! People who like each other kiss! Thought you knew it! You kissed me!"

"But - you agreed."

"And who said Aziraphale didn't? Or you can't bear he's gay? Or you can't bear the thought of your fancy brother kissing a fisherman? Because, bad news, I am also a fisherman!"

"No, you're different…"

"Do your job, Gabriel." Bea walks away. 

Gabriel doesn't understand. He honestly doesn't. Crowley is creepy and secretive. He can't be any good for Aziraphale. Gabriel would have always thought so… Oh. He has no right to think so. Actually, he has never had any right to think so. 

Gabriel wants to jump overboard with shame. 

He finds Crowley late at night on the bridge and does something he's only done once before. He apologises. He still doesn't like Crowley, but Aziraphale would be proud of him.

Crowley curtly nods. 

Bea makes their peace with Gabriel only when they return. 

***

"Off to see your… beloved?" Bea asks. Crowley hums towards the net he's trying to fix. It's actually totally fixed, and by Gabriel. And not that badly. 

"Want to."

"Then stop it and let's go."

"Why did he think so badly of me?"

"He's a rich arsehole from London who's only now discovering us mere mortals. He's a kind man, with a good heart. He'd do anything for his brother."

"Helps he's handsome too."

"Doesn't hurt, that's for sure. Crowley, I'm sure Aziraphale understands. And I stole your phone and put his number in it. Here."

"Fuck."

"No, too early. Want him to keep telling me how sweet I am."

Crowley giggles. "Ok. Thanks, Bea. I don't think you're sweet."

"You just don't like sugar."

"Also true… ok. Ok. I'll… stare at the net a bit more and then I'll go."

"Well…"

"You go, Bea. I need to - simmer in my anger and - hurt without any sea involved."

***

Crowley doesn't enter Eden, he fucking storms it, messy red hair and windburned skin and chapped lips and decisive steps. It's still morning, there are still people, and though most of them have known Crowley his entire life indeed, they still stop their chatting and eating and what not. 

Aziraphale turns around to see what might have caused such deafening silence - to be met with Crowley's lips. He's leaning over the counter, Aziraphale thinks, before the rest of him can get on with the picture, and he's holding my neck, and he's back and he's salty and sea-like, and he's kissing me. 

Aziraphale kisses him back with equal ardor. There's a regrettable lack of Melville but Aziraphale kissing a bonafide whale-captain-eel hybrid. There might be cheers and grunts, but Crowley and Aziraphale ignore them all. 

"My usual, please," Crowley manages to whisper without opening his eyes. 

"Sure, darling, right away." Aziraphale kisses Crowley one more time before fetching him the tea. The seaberries are particularly orange today, the air is particularly fresh. Aziraphale hasn't eaten Crowley's fish yet - and that's a dirty, naughty thought, it deserves a giggle. 

"Dearie, sit with Crowley, I'll help you out," Tracy offers, nay, commands. She's colourful and mostly orange like a seaberry, thanks to her hair and lipstick and endless shawls. 

Crowley nods his gratitude and goes to his usual corner where Gabriel and Bea are already sitting. Gabriel is blessedly silent. 

And Aziraphale might condemn himself for it, but he doesn't even think about Gabriel when he and Crowley share a fish, when Crowley warms his hands on the cup of tea, when he looks at Aziraphale, bashful and sweet. Such a perfect fish. 

After he leaves, Aziraphale finds a note in his pocket. 

_ Come to me in the evening. If you want. Angel. _

Aziraphale lets out a sigh that might cause a storm. It's a bit bad, it's going to be a bed, if there's a storm.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale runs his fingers up and down Crowley's extremely flat stomach. Aziraphale wouldn't find it attractive, but since it's Crowley, it's perfect and lovely. Besides, Crowley's mouth is open, his face is vulnerable, he seems to be breathing only when Aziraphale touches him. It's beautiful in a strange, curious way that Aziraphale is surprised to have found outside of a book. 

Crowley's stomach is taut, all of him a taut trout, so persistent and stubborn when breaking through the ice in spring… Maybe Aziraphale is falling asleep, which might not be the best idea, but his head is resting on Crowley's bony shoulder and Crowley's fingers are playing with his curls and sometimes there's a haunted kiss - a ghost of a kiss on Aziraphale's head, and Crowley's legs are like waves of a river or of the sea, moving up and down Aziraphale's own. Crowley's feet are soft, the hair on his legs is downy. His chest is a bit cool, Aziraphale pulls a blanket up higher, over them both. 

Crowley grunts, questioningly. He hasn't said a word yet, but Aziraphale is learning to understand these sounds, like he'd know there is a boat sailing down the river without a single person rowing. 

"I'm so tired, my darling. I thought we'd start anew and I'd feel - well, renewed. But… I just want to hide." Aziraphale turns his head to kiss Crowley's shoulder. "Want to hide in you."

"You just have," Crowley whispers. Aziraphale looks up and raises his head. Crowley cups it softly. "You're welcome to hide here. To hide with me. I love hiding."

Aziraphale pulls himself up to reach Crowley's lips, for a kiss - it's never going to be just one with Crowley, he thinks, not for a while.

"Maybe we could go away for a bit," Crowley whispers again. I know a place."

***

It's an island, not that far from the coast, but too small to be inhabited by anyone but birds, but there's a cave, it turns out, that Crowley has been keeping dry and clean. He takes Aziraphale there on a small boat. He's very sexy when he's rowing, Aziraphale can't and won't deny it. No, he won't. 

Nor will he think about Gabriel back at home, or about Tracy who's volunteered to look after both Eden and Gabriel for two days of Aziraphale's absence. 

And he won't think of Bea wiggling their eyebrows naughtily. About Gabriel being for once totally lost for words. Bea is good for him, indeed, but Aziraphale can't help feeling guilty about hoping for someone else to take care of Gabriel. 

He equally dreads to think how Gabriel's partner would behave after the accident, in case Gabriel had had a partner back then.

It's a wrong thing to consider right now. Aziraphale is trying to - hide and relax. Crowley is taking him to the cave. 

There's a small lake not far from the mouth of the cave. The scent is sulphuric and the water is warm.

"Darling, you do realise that it's incredibly romantic, don't you?"

"Why, angel, I have actually read some books. And yes, a hot spring in a cave is a very - romantic setting. Also, here I talk a lot, and I only have come here alone, so beware." Crowley is grumpy, which means he's shy, but not enough to get anxious and turn silent. 

Aziraphale has prepared much food for their trip and packed a few good bottles of wine. Crowley had to dissuade Aziraphale from packing real cutlery and glasses. Crowley has enough camping equipment for two. Perhaps, even for three. 

There's a fire going soon, it's raining outside… 

Aziraphale hasn't camped much, and no one can blame him for panicking a bit about having to use the bathroom only to remember there's none. 

Crowley rubs Aziraphale in a super undefeatable blanket and leads him to a place he had designated as a latrine pit, without an actual pit, luckily. 

Just before Aziraphale is about to curse himself for forgetting how little he likes camping or caves or nature in general (when exposed to it, of course, nothing otherwise personal), Crowley appears to have hidden a couple of pallets deeper in the cave. He pulls them out and arranges for a very cosy bed. It's covered in blankets and sleeping bags and even pillows. 

Crowley's smile looks crooked and mischievous in the hopping firelight. "You're an angel, angel. Wouldn't have made you sleep on the ground. Sorry about the canalisation. Couldn't have provided you with one without showing my secret place to some plumber, and plumbers can be very romantic too. Didn't want to have to book a place I have discovered." Crowley looks down at his feet. "I'm not territorial. I just love to - hide."

Aziraphale tugs him into the lake, for a wash and a kiss. Make it ten. Twenty. Lose count. 

Crowley in the water feels indeed like an amorous eel, with his barely there touches and fish-like grace. His bed pendulum moves perfectly in the water. His elongated body makes perfect sense when he's swimming. He can carry Aziraphale around - Aziraphale is sure that Crowley can do it without water as well, but it just feels so - right and out of a bad novel when Crowley holds him up and presses him into a wet damp cave wall. Any worries Aziraphale might have had about the cave fauna are kissed away swiftly. Crowley isn't scared, and Aziraphale finds it reassurance enough.

"Hidden well?" Crowley asks. 

"Extremely. Let's hide some more."

"As you wish, angel." 

Crowley towels Aziraphale and wraps him in another blanket. Aziraphale lost count of the blankets as well as the kisses. They lie together, pressed closed - Crowley slithered his way into Aziraphale's blanket after he dried himself. They wrap themselves into more blankets and at least three sleeping bags. The rain pitter-patters outside, the fire is dying slowly. 

"This is wonderful, darling. Would you be terribly disappointed if we just sleep for two days?"

"No, angel. I won't be. I hope no adventurous bird finds our food, but other than that, no worries. I'm happy to have you here. Where I can talk."

"You're perfect either way, my sweet fish."

"You're human, though."

"No, I'm a fish too now. There's such a thing as angel fish, right?"

"There is. But we can be eels too. Or whales. We can be anything here…" Crowley is half asleep, and Aziraphale is not much better, to be honest, but before his eyelids fall shut, he takes a long, long look at Crowley. He seems truer, more real than anything Aziraphale has seen or witnessed in his life. He's taken Aziraphale to a cave, to a small island with nothing but seagulls around, with a lake smelling of sulphur, with a makeshift bed. 

And if Aziraphale truly were a fish, he'd want that whole - thing, that is the cave, the lake, the sea outside, the fire, Crowley made into a pearl… Oh, it's not fishes that make pearls… He'd have to befriend one… one… pearl maker. Tracy could definitely be one. She wears pearls. He'd have to ask her to make that moment into a pearl.

And he'll have to find a wizard, a wise man, a magus, a king, to make that pearl into a home, to cut a door in it…

"Sleep well, angel. Sleep…"


	6. Chapter 6

Aziraphale has been traditionally courted and has himself courted traditionally, but none of it would work with Crowley. Aziraphale doesn't even want anything of the kind to work with Crowley. He knows if Crowley brings him flowers, it would be a betrayal to everything they are to each other. 

Bear with me.

They certainly don't think of it like that, but they both agree - without of course actually, openly agreeing - that flowers and chocolates, however good and sweet aren't right. It would betray the lack of knowledge of each other. 

So Crowley gives Aziraphale bed linen. It's not the fanciest, but it's soft and it's warm and it's comfortable. It's having Crowley in his bed on the nights when Crowley is out in the sea. 

And Crowley gives Aziraphale some peculiar parsnip seeds and introduces Aziraphale to purple potatoes and yellow carrots. Just for the fun of it. 

This is it, this is the word. It's  _ fun. _

And as for Aziraphale, he gives Crowley - himself, since it seems to be the only thing that Crowley truly wants. When Crowley comes back, Aziraphale waits for him and bugger all, dear boy, they kiss over the counter. When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale puts his handkerchief in Crowley's back pocket, as a talisman, as a reminder - and as a lady would do to her knight, but Aziraphale is too embarrassed to admit it, until he catches Crowley tying the handkerchief on his wrist. They both blush and Crowley hurries out and away and into the sea, where his skin gets burnt and red and where he can tell the sea that no one ever will make him blush other than the sea, and by the way, so long and thanks for all the fish. 

Gabriel catches a glimpse of the handkerchief and looks to Bea for the right reaction. He wants to demand an explanation, but Bea just snorts. They are lovely like that, so Gabriel snorts too. 

***

Crowley lies over Aziraphale, a weighted blanket that doesn't weigh much. His breath tickles Aziraphale's skin, just under his neck. His arms cover Aziraphale's. 

"Zero and infinity. They are the opposite and the same. They have the same powers. I think it's awfully romantic. Don't you, angel?"

Aziraphale smiles. Crowley is  _ very  _ talkative with him these days. He doesn't always make sense, as far as Aziraphale can say, but he tends to make everything into a love story - inevitably, their love story. Apparently zero and infinity are the couple of the day, following trees and fungi, hot springs and extremophiles, or just extremophiles.  _ You, me, acid spring, no one will ever find us there, angel _ . 

There has been a night full of love and discussions of octopus sex. Crowley refuses to call it tentacle porn. _No inserting my tentacles where they are not welcome, angel_. Aziraphale has never thought he'd say he wants Crowley's tentacles _everywhere, my sweet cephalopod._

It's a bit strange, undoubtedly. Aziraphale has never been happier.

"So, zero and infinity. They had to fight all Western thought! It took such a long time for them to be understood and played with. I'm your zero and you're my infinity. Or vice versa. It doesn't matter, really." Crowley is speaking against and into Aziraphale's skin. There's a wet patch on Aziraphale's back, a fragile record of Crowley's thoughts. And saliva. 

"You leave a wet trail on me. You're not a zero. You're a slug," Aziraphale says tenderly. Here's another thing he's never considered saying in the bedroom. It only means he's been to an awful lot of wrong bedrooms. He sighs. No, those bedrooms weren't wrong. Thanks to those bedrooms Crowley is a mumbling mess over Aziraphale's back, his beloved lamprey, ferocious and defiant of its nature, because even if Crowley has latched on to Aziraphale, he has done nothing but made him happy. 

"No, no, listen. Zero represents the void, and the void is full of potential, just like darkness or an empty sheet of paper or the surface of the sea. And infinity, it's everything. But a number divided by zero can end up being any number in the universe. And zero divided by infinity is a snuggly, cuddly zero, here in my arms. I've got you and you've got me. We're polar opposites and absolutely impossible without each other."

"Is there solid scientific research behind your words, my darling?"

"Yes. Well, not really. I just - knew. I saw you and I knew. I was a lonely zero, my voids have been many, but now my void days have gone…"

"I'm putting all my zeroes in one basket, I'm betting everything I've got on you," Aziraphale sings. 

"And don't forget Riemann!"

"Heaven forbid! Why?"

"Because all the prime numbers, they are situated on the line where the zeta function results in a zero… if I'm not mistaken. And I might be."

"You've just proved the Riemann hypothesis, haven't you?"

"No, I'm just another fool believing in it. Because it's beautiful. And so are you. And nothingness is infinite. Everything comes from nothing, whatever Lucretius, Shakespeare and  _ Sound of Music  _ have you believe."

"I say, I only believe you, Crowley."

Crowley hums his consent and falls asleep. He'll be silent in the morning, he'll mumble some love words and call Aziraphale his love bird, and they'll part for a few days. There will be a void of waiting until he comes back. Crowley will reduce Aziraphale's infinity to a void. Crowley will take Aziraphale's infinity with him, so that Aziraphale's infinity and the sea can have a playdate.

It will all be rather lovely. From a zero to infinity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all! And the song is Irving Berlin, I'm putting all my eggs in one basket. I highly recommend Astaire and Rogers version.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for being here. Comments are very very welcome, as is polite concrit.


End file.
